


When Life gives you Lemons

by Anchan (Anchan_thevolleyballplayer)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Crack, Cute, Domesticity, Each story can be understood as stand alone or one timeline in reverse, Established Relationship, Flirting, Growing Up, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Strangers to Lovers, attempt at flirting, inanimate object POV, silly and self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/pseuds/Anchan
Summary: “Do you think one lemon is enough to make a lemonade, hyung?”“That was a lime one, hyung.”“What’s that sour look for, lemon boy?”---The life of a lemon, or multiple lemons, that must deal with a pair of soulmates.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	1. When life hands you to two irresponsible humans

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the @minsungseason event on twitter! I originally wanted to apply for more than just one prompt, but since I’ve already done something similar with Under the Rainbow, I chose to take this challenge more casually. 
> 
> Day 27th - Yellow
> 
> Check out all the other amazing stories!! 
> 
> *The one bunny boy is there for you Min & thank you for letting me use your citrus pick up line

The freezing cold, a feeling that bites into its skin, disappears with the clicking sound of something heavy. Instead, it’s enveloped in pulsing warmth, ground taken from under its feet. 

“Do you think one lemon is enough to make a lemonade, hyung?” a voice that’s dangerously close speaks up, resonating through the sour object. An amused voice from the other side of the room snickers. “For Dori, yes.” 

“The other ones don’t look so fine, though,” the voice scoffs, bringing it higher and towards a solid mass of warmth. “I told you to buy fresh ones earlier.” 

Would it have features, it would scoff. How dare the blondie assumes that it’s not fine enough. 

“And whose fault it is that you kept distracting me?” comes an answer, and now the other presence is approaching the kitchen. Their tone is laced with honey, a little teasing around the edges. “How could I have left you here when you clearly wanted to cuddle?” 

The sound of a drawer opening makes it flinch, cling-clanking noises foreshadowing a long-known opponent. 

Back on the lemon tree, it would be taught to use all of its strength and start rolling away, but it’s for naught. The human easily catches it, holding onto its frame even tighter as he brings the deadly instrument closer. 

With its skin sliced open, it can now see what the voices are up to - they’re more than voices, now, too. Two bodies looming in front of it and casting shadows onto the counter. They hold each other in their arms as the blondie works his way around a dangerously looking machine. 

An attempt at screaming is made, a feeling that tickles all the way from the pit of its seeds to the verges of its pith; yet it’s useless, for no sound leaves its body. 

_It knows its time is coming short._

It is unfair, to always end up being the ones sacrificing their lives to fulfil a human’s prophecy. Life always gives someone lemons, but who is to offer the lemon a proper life? 

With its final thoughts, it watches. Watches as the pulsing warmth that envelops its form brings it towards what the fearless fruits call a juicer. Watches as the catlike human places a hand over the one that’s holding its form, fondly looking at the blondie. 

Watches as the juicer awakens. 

And then there’s nothing more to observe, for its life has been squeezed out. 

This might be one of the easiest jobs a lemon can find, hanging upside down from a cooled glass of beverage (that, in better case, isn’t a lemonade because that would be quite depressing). However, being the cafe favourite glass decoration has its downsides.

Loud and annoying visitors, for one. And teenagers in general. 

“What a cutie just passed my table,” the human on its left muses, placing one elbow dangerously close to its observatory tower. When it dares to look up, the human’s eyes are trained on the counter. 

Oh, how much it’d like to return there. 

These customers are neither of its usual causes of headache and yet there’s a sour feeling their words leave on its peel. Quite literally, as their breaths often reach it as either of them laughs or leans forward to whisper whenever the mentioned ‘cutie’ does something worth mentioning. 

“Minho, please stop fawning for a moment, you’re getting really annoying,” is a groan, coming from a much deeper voice across the table. “We came here to talk about studies, not Jisung.” 

“Well, you’re certainly right,” the first voice chuckles. “Less fawning, more flirting.” 

The deep voice groans again, and it would follow suit if it had a voice of its own. It would have covered its non-existing ears with its non-existing limbs - yeah, the life of a lemon is hard. Especially when one is hung over the edge of the third glass that day, shaking and holding onto it with all strength, waiting until one of the customers finally eats you. 

But maybe no one will, and you will end up discarded in the kitchen. Unsupervised and unseen when you seize the opportunity and roll away… or at least fall into the trashcan which will later bring you to a place where you can decompose in peace, living a long happy life. 

That must wait, at least a few more hours - for now, what it’s stuck with are lovesick students. 

And, soon enough, the barista who served it onto their table not that long ago. The same cutie the voices have been gushing about until now. The same source of energy that’s been flashing around in the kitchen all morning, listening to songs by _Lemonade Mouth -_ whoever they are, it would appreciate a deeper dive into their music. Not as much into the voice singing along, a teeny tiny bit off-key and laughing like a maniac every time he broke the tone. 

“What may I help you with?” 

“I think I forgot to order the special treat,” comes from the voice above. It makes the cutie raise one eyebrow in suspicion. “Your smile.” 

“I’m truly sorry but we’re not selling those,” he replies shortly. 

“Orange you gonna make an exception for hyung? You know your smile is my favourite,” the teasing lilt in the voice above soon breaks into soft laughter. 

The cutie takes a breath, ready to say something more but the cutie has none of it. “Quit flirting around, it will scare off the customers." 

"You're the only one I'm flirting with, though. You know why?" the catlike boy smirks. "Because you're my main squeeze." 

“That was a lime one, hyung,” the cutie replies almost immediately, though the smile behind his words is apparent. “At least think of something proper to say before you open your mouth.” 

“Nothing stoppin’ me from trying,” the closest voice shrugs. “You seem to like it.” 

“Oh please,” the cutie shakes his head, fringe falling past his eyes, so it covers the sparkle that reflects in them. 

“Are you two done?” the deep voice mumbles, giving them both an unimpressed look. 

The bunny boy giggles audibly, a little too loud, and stretches his limbs above his head before standing up. The ‘cutie’ is lingering by his side of the table, subtly rocking on his heels, eager to put his hands onto the other. _The same hands that were washing him in the morning. Touching such a dirty human._

“Yep, ready to head home,” the same voice concludes. 

“What- no, Minho, you promised to do schoolwork with me,” the freckled student yelps, his voice suddenly leaping higher. He slams his palms onto the table, watching in panic as the other boy collects his belongings, leaning towards the cutie barista to plant a kiss on his cheek. The ‘cutie’ shoos him away with a hand gesture before skipping over to the kitchen - oh, how much it would like to be carried away with him. 

“Ahh don’t worry, we’ll do that tomorrow,” he winks, eyes following the cutie until he’s back at their table. 

A few more complaints come from the deeper voice, but it chooses to ignore them. Not too long, and they’re gone. 

It almost lets out a relieved exhale when the customers start packing, rustling around with their bags and possessions while the ‘cutie’ cleans their table, just as eager to linger around as the boy who keeps sending him winks. Soon enough, there will be no flirting, and no winks, and no customers. 

It will be free. 

Or maybe it won’t, it concludes, as it watches the catlike boy reach forward and place his fingers around its fragile form. And then, his teeth sink into its body, dull but painful - and it feels no more. 

“And this part is apparently called albedo,” the blondie exclaims, face turning into a deep frown. “Eww, that’s the white jerk that always sticks to the edible part.” 

How rude, it does not stick, it protects its property, the most precious core that everyone seems to be spiteful of. 

“Jisung, please, stop talking,” the other boy whines, leaning away from the table and threatening the blondie with the object in his hands. “I’m trying to read the instructions.” 

“What instructions? It’s a school project!” the blondie - Jisung, probably, though it doesn’t matter - shoots back. It’s not like anyone would expect it to remember names, nor does it have the ability to call them out loud. Sometimes, very rarely, it would indeed like to call some out. 

The other boy glares at him, adjusting his seat. “Exactly, and I do _not_ want to set the whole room on fire or something.” 

“That won’t happen,” the blondie protests, cheeks getting warmer, as well as the hand that is enveloping it. “We’ve done this before. Mrs. Park showed us, right?” 

“Does that mean I believe you won’t set something on fire?” the catlike human challenges, reaching over to take it into his own hands. Placing it onto the table, _yes please, thank you._

“I have never- not in physics class!” 

Things settle down after this exchange, a fresher atmosphere spreading through the room. Just how a lemon likes things: calm, quiet… 

The blondie smiles - that’s as much as it can see from below before another fruit from the table gets taken behind the human’s back, settled securely between two palms. “Oi, Minho-hyung!” 

“What?” Said Minho-hyung inquires, raising an eyebrow as the younger boy presents the poor and very much stressed fruit towards him. A question on his tongue fades away with the blondie’s next words. 

“Lime yours!” the blondie exclaims, all too loudly considering the distance between him and Minho-hyung, as well as the proximity to the fruit itself. Showing enthusiasm the fruit cannot return, the younger babbles on. “Get it? Like, I’m yours?” 

“Jisung, that’s a lemon,” the other human deadpans. 

“I- I know that, but it’s not the point,” comes from the blondie’s mouth the exact same moment it would have chosen to loudly protest; it _does,_ in fact, matter. Not only they differ in size, colour, and atomic structure the human usually later refer to as taste- 

It is snatched away mid-speech. Rude. 

“Flirting isn’t the point either,” the other boy replies. 

The companion - and ultimately, the luckier fruit-friend - is then taken away, carried into the safety of the kitchen. No more time is then wasted for mindless flirting. That is both relieving and, ultimately, concerning; a moment spent flirting is a moment longer to breathe. 

Most time is used for reading instructions, concentrating onto the clumps of ink printed words instead of what is happening around; and yet, whenever it makes an attempt to roll around, either one of the humans reaches out blindly and returns it to its place. 

If it had any hope for escaping before, not much is left. A grand escape is not as easy peasy as one lemon would anticipate. How unfortunate. 

“What if… hyung, what if we create a monster? A Frankenlemon?” 

For a brief moment, it almost appears the humans’ attention has shifted beyond its poor fate, the voices getting distant in favour of aiming for each other’s mouths. They don’t stay afar for long enough, though there is never long enough when it comes to life and death matters. 

Ah, it’s to be expected when the brunette reaches towards the table again. 

“The answer’s lemon - now come on,” leaves the human’s lips as a mutter (to a question it couldn’t hear, though that won’t matter in a moment), followed by the bubbly laughter of his companion. How easy it is to laugh when your life isn’t played with, balancing on the knife-edge (well, not literally, thankfully). 

But maybe balancing on a knife would be the easier life situation, it debates, for it is easier to fall than to have thousands of volts travelling through your very core. 

The last glance is cast towards the catlike boy; with eyes focused on the blondie, he reaches for the switch. 

And then, the electricity is turned on…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue reading for the less crack-ish part, _the beginning._


	2. Lemon for Thoughts

Jisung slumps against the wooden counter, propping his head on his elbow.  _ He’s tired.  _

The afternoon is humid - a regular happening in the midst of summer, of course, but it doesn’t bother Jisung as much when he’s safely tucked inside and playing videogames with Changbin. It becomes much more of a struggle when he’s actually forced to hang out directly in the sun. 

But it’s not like he has any choice this summer. Talking big about wanting a new skate (he totally did not break the last one when performing a trick only to impress the upperclassmen), one has to actually  _ pay  _ to get one. 

Which is where Jisung’s plan failed the first time, but he quickly put it back together, and came up with a reasonably easy way to earn money. A lemonade stand in the middle of the neighbourhood as the adults pass by in the hot weather… a brilliant plan, isn’t it? 

Well, that would be until you actually set it up. And wait. Burning under the early afternoon sun, regretting you didn’t put enough sunscreen like your mom has told you to, your water bottle running empty.

Jisung takes frequent pauses to avoid running out of water entirely because Felix always scolds him for being dehydrated and causing himself headaches. However, it’s not like he will lose a customer in the moments he’s not looking - the neighbourhood is dead quiet at this hour, and it doesn’t look like it’ll change anytime soon. 

Maybe he’ll just pack up for today, and return tomorrow. 

_ Maybe  _ Changbin will agree to help him, instead of insisting he could easily buy the skate himself.  _ That’s not the point, buddy,  _ he told Changbin last week when the older brought it up. Standing idly behind an abandoned lemonade stand makes him sort of regret he turned the generous offer down. 

And still, it wouldn’t feel right. 

“What’s that sour look for, lemon boy?” 

Jisung looks up from the stray pebbles on the pavement, following the red sneakers towards their owner’s eyes. The boy looks pretty familiar, and a little too handsome for his own good, but Jisung can’t put a name on him. 

“They’re not selling today,” he answers simply, not bothering with even pretending to sound lively, unlike usual when talking to strangers. It gives him a fresh, confident vibe - today, though, he feels like neither of those. 

“Ah, how unfortunate,” the stranger shrugs, but Jisung doesn’t miss the way he subconsciously reaches towards his pockets and pats them down. He quickly retreats his hands though, stepping forward to lean onto the stand construction with a playful smirk. “Well, that’s what happens when life gives you lemons.” 

“Hey, rude,” Jisung retorts, swatting him away with a hand the boy skillfully avoids. “Don’t talk big, you probably wouldn’t do better.” 

A sparkle flits across the stranger’s eyes, giving Jisung a once over that leaves the younger feeling even hotter than he has until now. Which is simply ridiculous - a shade has drifted upon the lemonade stand a few moments ago.

“Well, for your information, I have my fair share of experience, so of course I would,” the boy taunts, keeping his eyes locked on Jisung as he pronounces his challenge, then drops them towards the counter where he playfully picks up one of the unused plastic cups, twidling it between his fingers. 

His voice is radiating confidence; it rubs Jisung all the wrong ways. Not only is the stranger being rudely courageous, stepping into his business only to pick up a fight, but he’s also implying he’s better at this. 

“Well, why don’t you come and assist, then?” Jisung returns the challenge, leaning onto his hands to snatch the plastic cup away. He retreats quickly when he feels the stranger’s breath on his face; If his cheeks heat up from the proximity, he doesn’t let it show. 

“And prove that I’m right,” he adds, flashing him a confident smile. Jisung isn’t sure whether he wants to punch it or kiss it away. On further thought, he’d rather have someone punch  _ him  _ for thinking that. 

“Whatever, you’re so gonna lose,” he returns, shaking his head. “You’ll have to buy the rest of the lemonade until the stand is empty.” 

No matter how confident, even he cannot put a spell on this uneventful day. Jisung may as well get some entertainment out of this. 

“I won’t have to, because the supply will be empty by the next hour with how charming I am.” 

“You’re not,” Jisung replies, even dares to laugh into the stranger’s face - that’s just absurd. One might say his response was too rushed but the boy doesn’t comment on that, giving him a look he cannot quite decipher.    
  
“I’m just not trying right now,” he replies non-chalantly. 

“Excuses,” Jisung hisses back, rolling his eyes as he leans away from the stand, kicking a feet from under him. Unsure of what he’s trying to achieve, he smirks to himself when the boy’s eyes follow him. The way he angles his head to peek at Jisung’s foot makes his fringe fall over his eyes. 

No, he doesn’t look adorable that way. 

“Would you want me to try charming you?” he inquires, lifting his head back up to shoot Jisung a passionate wink. Then he has the  _ audacity  _ to drag his teeth across his lower lip. “I’m saving it for the business, it’s not like I need to try any extra to get a reaction out of you.” 

Jisung means to argue but Minho places a finger over his lips, effectively stealing his breath. “Let’s get to work!”

  
  
  


They begin with exchanging names because Jisung doesn’t want to keep calling him a stranger if they’re going to work side by side now (or like, taking shifts or whatever, to prove who gets more customers) and he absolutely refuses to be called Squirrel boy. Offering his real name is the better alternative here. 

Once the formalities are out of their way, he begins to explain where everything is stored - and though the stand isn’t spacious nor very loaded, it does take them a dozen of minutes to get through every item on the list, thanks to the neverending bickering that seems to naturally accompany Minho’s presence. 

And the minute-long pauses that follow each of Minho’s well-aimed winks and interpreted-as-flirty remarks. 

Those get ignored. 

At first, Jisung is competitive and glares at him more than anything but then he becomes bored, the midday sun getting the worst out of him and he starts talking nonsense. To his surprise, Minho replies calmly and sounds involved, interested in whatever ludicrousness leaves Jisung’s mouth. 

“Look at all the lemons laughing at us, hyung,” he laments, throwing his arm in the direction of the basket hidden the shade of the lemonade stand. It is no longer overflowing like when he first carried it outside, but it’s reasonably full, nevertheless. “Seems like we’re no better with you here.” 

He could say the day, so far, is  _ fruitless -  _ but it isn’t, since the fruits are the only thing that they do have.  __

“Of course we are, it’s just a dead hour outside,” Minho waves him off, but he sounds comforting as if he were consoling a child. A little exhausted, but that’s understandable with their poor situation. “And besides, lemons can’t laugh at us.” 

“What do you know?” 

The older turns around and crouches down, which Jisung takes as a sign that they’re done talking.  _ Fair.  _ But then Minho grabs one of the lemons from their basket vault and raises it above his head. He’s been keeping a rather serious face until this point; now, there’s a hint of a playful smile. 

“Exactly, what do you know?” shaking the fruit above his head as if it was animated, he mimics Jisung who bursts out laughing. Minho’s smile grows into a full-blown one. This time, Jisung isn’t even going to deny it looks precious, but he never gets to admit to it out loud. They get distracted when Minho notices a random passerby and sells another cup. 

Maybe the afternoon is getting the worst out of them both. 

A few more potential customers pass by their stand, most of them promptly ignoring them altogether. A mother with two children takes pity and buys lemonade for all three of them, and another high school girl buys herself a cup, though not without picking a fight about not getting enough ice. 

It isn’t much, but at least there’s some progress. It would be much nicer, though, if he weren’t debating with his pride whether this is really any better than Changbin’s offer. He’s not really the one working and earning for his skateboard now. And yet… when he glances at Minho, he cannot help wanting to keep him around. 

Something about this is thrilling, and so he lets his worries waft away with the breeze. 

Soon, he finds himself too restless to keep sitting afar, claiming a spot on the pavement not so far away, where the tree shade has shifted. He contemplates telling Minho to move the stand, but there’s something satisfying watching him sweat under the direct sunlight. 

And it’s not because the glistering sweat catches light just right against Minho’s marble skin - that would be lame. It’s also not because of the delicate stretch of his shirt flexing around his muscles when he rubs at his face and neck. 

Maybe he  _ could  _ use another spare moment to secretly observe his annoying yet handsome co-worker. 

But then Minho shifts his weight and turns around to face him, leaning against the counter, and that  _ something  _ Jisung’s been trying to push down ever since the challenge arose between them bubbles out again. It prompts him to stand up without a second thought, and keeps his mind burning but not with embarrassment, not even passion - rather, he’s thriving to hear more of what Minho has to offer. 

The illusion of a sparkle reflects in Minho’s eyes once he approaches the stand, and the older quickly moves aside to let Jisung take his place. Jisung shakes his head, faking exasperation, and yanks him back with a hand on his sleeve. “Not going anywhere, you haven’t sold s-” 

Minho quickly interrupts his speech, the competitive, victorious smile once again present on his lips. “Excuse me, I dare to say I sold more than you. So who’s the real winner here?”

Jisung  _ so  _ wants to kiss the stupid smirk away. 

“No one,” he retorts instead of doing just that, turning around to busy himself with reviewing their current earnings, hoping to get his mind working properly again. “The day ain’t over.” 

“So isn’t your attitude,” Minho comments dryly; however, on further inspection, Jisung is almost sure the tone is just another way of teasing. He may as well take it as a confirmation when Minho bites the inside of his cheek to keep in a smile when their eyes meet. 

“What?” he raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

Minho shrugs, spinning around on his heel and skipping towards the place on the pavement Jisung was occupying just a moment ago. He looks like a cat when he rounds the spot before curling his legs over each other and focusing his eyes back on Jisung. “Nothing.” 

Jisung blinks, then, unsure of his observation at first - but the scarlet dust covering Minho’s ears becomes hard to miss. 

_ Minho is one hundred per cent blushing.  _

  
  
  


Jisung keeps his phone discreetly tucked behind the cups to double-check change and measure time. Before Minho appeared at his service, the time had been passing mercilessly slowly. Now, he feels like the minutes turn into seconds. 

Not only it feels more comfortable and less stupid to stand around with an accomplice; having Minho meandering around means constant attention and being showered with random observations of the surroundings. And it’s not like he wouldn’t be shortening his while with this exact method, but it’s more fun to share his thoughts with another being. 

Someone who’s willing to listen - who seems to share the one brain cell that hasn’t evaporated in the humid weather yet. 

Minho points at the clouds, turning them into objects and whole sceneries with his imagination; he observes the windows of the closest houses, laughing at random people peeking out to water the flowers or passing by holding hairbrushes and using them as microphones. 

The sounds that leave Minho when he spots a stray kitten forever engrave themselves in Jisung’s memory, as well as the sight of Minho softening and baby talking to the spotted cat. He swears he hears him call the animal a princess. 

Wanting to see more of Minho’s cat-involving antics, he dares to step away from the lemonade stand, but he doesn’t have much luck because the cat runs away before he can approach them fully. Minho bursts out laughing at his disappointed expression, skipping towards him to give him a head pat. “Oho, don’t worry, another cat will surely like you.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

He hopes the  _ another  _ cat is Minho.

  
  
  


“What brings us here, anyway?” Minho wonders at one point. Jisung isn’t sure the older is talking to him, too busy squinting into the distance in a desperate attempt to spot another potential customer; but then Minho calls him  _ Squirrel boy _ to get his attention and all his effort is wasted. 

His head snaps around, a totally witty comeback in the back of his throat that he swallows as soon as his eyes land on the older. Minho isn’t looking at him, like he would have expected - instead, he’s looking up into the sky. The angle highlights his jaw sinfully. “You surely have better things to do than selling lemons.” 

“Like what?” he stumbles out, still confused about his previous inquiry. He isn’t sure what has prompted Minho to approach him in the first place, but the question doesn’t seem to be targetting that moment of their story. 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Minho hums, but then his eyes glint with a mischievous light, “like performing skateboard tricks?” 

Jisung chokes on his own spit. “You- what- you saw me?” 

“Well, the skatepark is a public location…”  _ thank god, he didn’t. _ “Not that I was spying on you or anything, you’re just hardly forgettable.” 

Maybe it’s the distance that makes Jisung wonder, or the shy smile, or the way Minho blinks a few too many times; no, it’s definitely the way Minho’s legs subtly jolt after realising the poor wording. That sounded  _ suggestive.  _ Are they flirting right now? 

He should tease him a little more to truly find out. 

Now that the last statement is out and hanging between them - illuminating Minho’s face in pink and fueling Jisung’s words - he feels confidence surge through his body. “Uh-uh, totally not spying on me.”

Minho looks almost offended at his certainty. A breathy laugh leaves his mouth together with a half-intended  _ “Hey,” _ and Jisung has a hard time not mirroring the reaction. “How come you’re not there?” 

“Am I not allowed to have days off?” he quirks his eyebrow at the older. 

“More like weeks?” Minho counters, almost suspicious, “I haven’t seen you around for- I mean, you always occupy the pool,” he corrects himself last minute; the blush grows brighter. And yet he stays somewhat composed. 

He totally doesn’t sound like he’s been watching Jisung. Nu-uh.

Probably sitting afar at the placebo that looms just behind the main plaza. There’s no way Minho skates too; if he has enough confidence to approach Jisung off-park, then he would have challenged him on the game already. 

_ How come he has never noticed Minho around there?  _

The skate park is remotely full, especially during summer days so it doesn’t come as a surprise the older has escaped Jisung’s attention. Most of the time, Jisung hangs out with Changbin and a few other kids that camp at the pool - either to watch him or because they bias the ride as much as Jisung does. 

“Whatever, you’re right,” he admits, feeling Minho’s curious eyes boring into his frowning eyebrows, “it just doesn’t feel nice to be around without a skate of my own. And I kinda broke mine.” 

“Oh,” comes as a surprised exhale. For a second, Jisung wonders if he sees disappointment behind Minho’s eyes. 

“That’s what we’re here for,” he shakes his head to clear off his thoughts, and when he turns back to Minho, he’s beaming. No longer it takes Minho to smile back. “So wanna help me get back on track?” 

  
  
  


When the golden hues start to fall upon Minho’s features, Jisung finally allows himself to descend from dreamland and return to reality. As much as he wants the day to go on forever, or at least until he’s satisfied with the amount of time spent bickering with the older, the sunset means no more customers - and therefore no excuse to stay. 

Minho isn’t paying attention to the sky, nor to Jisung, nor does he realise what the time implies. He’s simply… fiddling with his phone, as of now. Had been walking around until now, kicking pebbles and performing little dances for Jisung’s entertainment. “ _ That might attract more customers. A performance for free with each drink.”  _

Then he packs the phone away again, and his eyes lock with Jisung’s, sending the younger spiralling on his own feelings. The tightness in his chest is back, bubbling and swimming inside of his stomach, filling him with warmth that leaves him squirming under Minho’s gaze. 

Which is why he chooses to turn around and focus on something else. Minho doesn’t. 

He continues to feel the burn of Minho’s eyes on him when he’s counting their earnings, making it impossible to focus. On the other hand,  _ staring  _ was completely fine - now, Minho’s hand is resting on his waist and it’s driving him crazy. Minho must be aware of the effect, and yet he doesn’t take his hand away. 

“Here, your fair share,” Jisung outstretches his arm, a pile of coins threatening to spill through between his fingers. 

Minho looks at it, hums, and refuses. “No thank you, I didn’t do this for money.” 

“It’s just fair to split, you helped me a lot,” Jisung stumbles out, and it’s hard to talk when he’s this close to Minho, feeling his palm burning through his clothes, but he means it. 

Minho shakes his head again. He’s smiling. “You won’t let me go without a reward, will you?”

“Nope, I’m a good-mannered boy,” Jisung replies cheekily. 

Instead of taking the offered reward, Minho motions him to return the money to the vault and reaches into his back pocket, swiftly fishing out his phone. “Well then… why don’t you give me your number?” 

The item is being pressed into Jisung’s palm before he can properly think about it - not that he’s going to refuse - and stolen back just as eagerly. Minho whispers a small ‘cute’ when he scans the contact info, then his eyes flicker back to Jisung’s equally flushed face. “So, call you tomorrow?” 

There really isn’t much his body is currently able to do except for nodding vigorously. 

“For professional purposes, obviously,” Minho continues as if he were reading Jisung’s mind and mocking him, breathy laugh laced with his voice, “my shift brought us profit, so I shall share my success with you tomorrow too. How much do we need?” 

Yeah, it’s totally not endearing that he addresses the goal as their shared one. 

“About the same amount,” Jisung forces out, flustered at Minho’s enthusiasm yet amused by his attitude. Judging by the satisfied, cocky smile playing on his face just moments ago, his original attitude wasn’t better. “I’ll pay the rest from my savings.” 

Minho nods. “Then we shall use the excess money for celebration. Does an ice cream date sound good to you?”

Jisung almost chokes, heart pounding. “Absolutely.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, then.” 

  
  
  


(After a few extra afternoons initiated by Minho through phonecalls, their goal is reached. 

And as the older follows Jisung into the shop to pick out a fitting skateboard, another bonus goal gets completed too - not only Jisung has a brand new skateboard now, but a bundle of personally picked out squirrel themed stickers comes with the purchase. 

Paid for by Minho, before he can even get a word out. Pressed into his palm, and before he can say as much as a thank you, followed by a kiss pressed against his cheek.)

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I DON’T KNOW what possessed me to write this nonsense but I find it too hilarious to not share with the world. I know I’m not funny but I just had to. Did it make you laugh? Did you enjoy it? Share your thoughts~


End file.
